


Little Things

by TheArchaeologist



Series: DuckFeels, Woohoo! [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: Small ficlets on the life of Donald, Huey, Dewey and Louie on the houseboat.





	1. Chapter 1

Donald is tired.

Huey needs new shoes. He says he doesn't, that his current ones fit just fine and there's no need to worry, but as Donald drops them off at school the following morning he notices the slightly pained look that flashes across Huey's face as they make their way across the playground. And when they get home that evening, he picks up on the relieved sigh Huey breathes, leaving the shoes by the door with the others. 'New shoes for Huey' is added to the shopping list.

Dewey has a field trip coming up next week. The boys are all in different classes (a wise move by the school, for everyone's safety), and Huey and Louie have already been. Of course being kids they've excitedly relayed their tales of the trip to the museum to their siblings. Huey explained in detail the dinosaur exhibit with the moving animatronics while Louie pointed out the best deals in the gift shop. Now Dewey is pumped up, wondering aloud what he will buy as his souvenir, and what he might have from the café’s selection of cakes. Donald calmly explains that, like his brothers, Dewey will be taking a packed lunch. 'Lunch for trip' is added to the shopping list.

Louie recently ripped his jumper. 

“It was an accident.” He tells Donald as they look over the tear. “I fell over.” 

Having fixed many an outfit before, Donald can confidently say that is not the type of tear you get from tripping. From having someone grab onto it, maybe, but now simply falling over. He would get riled about that, but the way Dewey hovers around them as they examine the material, which has frankly been used passed it's intended lifespan, tells him all he needs to know. He eavesdrops into their conversation as he prepares dinner, and finds nothing out of place, and so decides to let that go. They're getting older. At some point he's going to have to let them sort their arguments out themselves, might as well have them practice on the smaller things. But that still leaves the issue of the torn jumper. 'Green thread' is added to the shopping list.

However, green thread will take them over their budget, and they simply can't _afford_ to go over their budget this month. 

'Cough medicine' is crossed off the list. Honey and warm milk will do anyway.

Donald is tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, I didn't foresee myself writing fanfiction on Donald Duck, but there you go.


	2. Chapter 2

They all have nightmares. For Donald, that’s nothing new. Ever since he was first dragged halfway across the globe by his uncle and sister he’s had them. Sure, some of them aren’t too bad. The ones about sailing are alright. Being a sailor himself, he can often scoff at the nonsense his unconscious mind cooks up, because he knows half that stuff is impossible anyway. It’s like trying to get a magician afraid of his own tricks. When you know something so well, it’s hard to be scared of it, especially when it’s stupid stuff that couldn’t happen anyway.

Flying, however, is a different story.

Donald doesn’t know flying, not really. Not as well as his sister did. He can’t step onto a plane and point out what all the different buttons do. He can’t tell you how high it’s safe to fly, or how low. And he sure as hell can’t tell you how to land a plane with no engine.

His sister could, he tells himself, she would know. 

She has to have known.

Because if she didn’t…

Donald isn’t the only one who has nightmares, and over the years grows accustomed to having a small child curled up beside him when he wakes up. It’s not often that one of the boys will join him, usually they will climb up into a sibling’s bunk, but for those rare dreams where a brother’s comfort will be of no use, they come to him.

Vaguely, Donald remembers how he used to do that with Scrooge, once upon a time. There was usually a lot of grumbling involved.

When the boys come to him, it usually means that the nightmare involved Donald in some way. Sometimes he was sick, or hurt. Huey once told him about the reoccurring dream where Donald vanished, leaving them all alone. That one had made him flinch, and hold Huey a little tighter. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Flings this into the abyss and then runs in the opposite direction*


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a dreaded time when someone gets sick. Not only because that means worrying over a nephew, caring for him while trying to reassure his brothers, but also because it means Donald can’t work. 

It’s hard to get a job anyway which works with their schedule. Sure, he doesn’t mind them walking to school by themselves, and he knows that Huey has for the most part mastered the stove and some simple cooking, but he does actually need to _see_ the boys at some point during the day. A month ago, he got some part time work which required him from four in the morning until late evening, and it got to the stage where he only ever saw them in bed. After a week, he quit that job. While he needed the work, he also needed to be the surrogate parent he was to his nephews. 

The problem was, being a new employee meant he was very easy to fire. Taking time off to care for a sick kid was often a good excuse for bosses trying to save on cash. He’s unreliable, they tell him, and that he has too many commitments to fulfil the role. When someone is ill, they all dread the sound of the phone, because it meant another trip to the job centre, another month of tight budgeting, and usually a nephew who felt responsible. Donald had to be quick to nip that in the bud. Every single time.

The boys try to convince him that they can take care of themselves. 

“It’s just a cold.” They point out. “We can keep an eye on him; he’ll probably sleep all day anyway.” 

But Donald is very, very aware of their shaky position as a family. He already has the eyes of certain officials watching him, waiting for him to mess up. All it would take was one accident at home while he was out, one trip to A&E, and he could be done for neglected and the boys taken into care. He keeps this to himself, though. The boys get stressed enough as it is.

The phone rings, echoing in the hallway, and Donald sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this angsty enough yet?


	4. Chapter 4

Growing up, they always used their crayons down to the last centimetre. At the time they never really thought about it. There was still use in them, so why throw them away? Even when the colour merged into a brown muddy smudge with the occasional streak of purple they were still used, their uncle taking no offense at the odd shade when proudly presented with a picture. Only when the wrapper was the last thing that remained did they go out and buy a new set. 

They didn’t have many toys that required batteries either, thinking back on it. Batteries, after all, are a regular expense. Instead they had knock-off action figures from the charity shops and supermarkets, cleaned up and given new clothes from bits of material their uncle had lying around. They were fun though, great for making up adventures.

Christmas was the hardest time, when prices rocketed because businesses could. The other kids at school would bring in their favourite gifts when term started in January, showing off their gadgets and gizmos. They boys always had shared presents, or if it _was_ individual three of the same thing in different colours. Still, they would trapes into school, their ‘Frustration’ board game under arm, and smile as they stood in front of the class and explained how they all played it on Christmas Day under the cheapest tree they could find. Christmas dinner was made up of food brought before the Christmas prices went up and stuffed into the back of the freezer.

Uncle Donald refused to buy them shared things for birthdays, however, or three of the same thing. Each of them received a little bit of money and an individual present. If it was a good month they went for burgers too, or pizza. And these toys were not just ‘here’s a standard kids toy’ junk either, they were stuff with thought, stuff that would last. 

Such as the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook Special Anniversary Edition Huey got one year, the triplet opting to keep that one nice and on display on the bookshelf, using his older one for working in the field. Dewey received a small CD and radio player so he could listen to his favourite music and ‘practice his moves’, though on the promise only having it on during waking hours. There was a reason why that rule had to be put into place. Louie’s favourite green jumper was a birthday gift too, when his previous favourite was growing too small and too worn. Their uncle Donald had gone to great lengths to find one similar to it, and while it was a different make, it was perfect.

When it came to Donald’s birthday, their uncle refused presents and instead opted for a day out. It was the zoo, once, and the cinema, another time. If the boys tried to buy their uncle’s ticket, or his food, or a souvenir for him, he would shuffle them away, reminding them of how important it was for them to save money for themselves or their future.

“Damn.” Donald muttered once. “I sound just like him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I mean, you are related so you will sound like each other at times...


	5. Chapter 5

Whoever invented the freezer is a lifesaver. Seriously, without it Donald does not know how he could make food last as long as it did. He _needed_ it to last long; it was essential that what he brought when he had a paycheck lasted beyond his inevitable firing and through the months of unemployment. 

It’s not that they have ever gone hungry, Donald made sure of that, but sometimes things had to be used after the expiry date, or when they were a little too brown, or slightly too soft. Nothing that was completely passed it, or mouldy, or worse. Just…Older than desirable. But the freezer lessened that load. Most of the veg they brought was frozen, so it could live in the freezer to be carefully dished out. Bread went in there too, and meat, and anything else that could be defrosted. Granted, the freezer was not all that big, and come Christmas it was a tight squeeze to fit everything in, but they managed. 

Until one day when Huey excitedly dragged Donald into a chair and showed him his Junior Woodchuck Book.

He pointed out the pages, eagerly explaining how things could be kept outside in snow to keep fresh, and suggested that when it when it got cold enough or snowed they could do something similar. At first Donald was sceptical, not wanting to waste food by experimenting, but when the boys organised themselves into making a large box, running around looking for spare nails and bits of wood, Donald didn’t have the heart to tell them otherwise. Still, he gave them something that if it defrosted, they could put it back into the freezer again. 

The box was placed on the deck of the boat, tightly tied up so it wouldn’t go sliding about, and in the evening the triplets excitedly put the bag of vegetables inside. Much to the surprise of Donald, come morning when they went to investigate, they found them still perfectly frozen, and the experiment was declared a success. Donald let them eat their frozen veg for dinner that night.

After that, they all kept a closer eye on the weather, waiting for the time of year when they could buy the extra items without fear of running out of space. There was always a buzz at the first frost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a student, I sympathise with Donald on this


	6. Chapter 6

One night there was a storm. Not a simple lightning and thunder storm, though there was that too, but a full on gale. The wind whipped through Dukburg like a crazed banshee, rattling the panes of the windows as if a hundred hounds were scratching to get in. Trees bent hard from the force, shedding leaves and branches while tiles came from rooftops and outside bins went for a wander down the streets of the town.

There had been prior warnings from both the weather forecast and local authorities. People were told to take all their items inside, too put cars in garages, to stock up on food. They thought the power and water might be down for a little while. An extensive list was put up online of things to get; torches, batteries, candles, matches, hot water bottles, bottled water, and so on. It was long and for the most part was overreacting, but as everyone said, “Better safe than sorry.”

There were concerns that the streets would flood, and suddenly sandbags were worth their weight in gold. Shop owners hurried to protect their stock, supermarkets barricaded their doors to stop looting during the night, and schools moved all their equipment upstairs. 

But it was the waiting that was the worst part. Everybody knew it was going to hit at some point in the night, but did not know exactly when. Sleep felt impossible, laying there in anticipation for the event that was about to happen, but it was necessary. Once it was here, it was going to be hard to get any rest as the clean-up took place. 

And when it struck at one in the morning, the sound was tremendous. It was like a mixture of a bad rock concert, with all the clanging and banging and crashes of the drums and screeching of the guitar, and the whirling of a large tornado. It whistled and whined and screamed, catching anything loose and playing with it as if it were a ball. Down in the dockyard the water went crazy, drops was water being picked up off the ocean’s surface and hammering into all structures that stood in its way.

Scrooge McDuck stood watching from his window, silently wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello? I have one order of feels? Anybody? Look, it's going to go to waste if no one claims it. Who ordered the feels?
> 
> Scrooge is tagged in this for a reason ;)


	7. Chapter 7

It was Christmas, a picturesque one at that. Outside the snow was falling gently, carefully sprinkling the world like icing powder, frosting Duckburg like the top of a Christmas pudding. The streets were silent save only those walking back from church. There were no cars on the road, and all shops had their shutters down.

The only source of noise in the manor came from the fire, burning bright within the fire place. It crackled and popped, and Scrooge quite happily settled himself down in front of it, a warm blanket thrown over his legs and a small glass of cherry on the table beside him. His stick was propped against the armchair, the shiny wood reflecting the warm orange of the fire. Across the room, the record player sang a lonely song.

It was nice to get some quiet time. Launchpad had left a few days ago for his grandparent’s place out in the country, and last week Beakley had packed up herself and Webby to stay with relatives for the season. Indeed, it seemed strange without the little duckling running around, playing her…Warped version of simple games.

Maybe warped was a bit harsh. The child was sweet enough and always kept a respectful distance from Scrooge. Sure, her imagination was a little odd, but she was at an age where it was not unusual. Maybe Scrooge had simply become unused to children. The last time they were in the manor was well over, what, twenty-five years ago, perhaps? 

Scrooge frowned a bit. How old was Donald now? He must be in his thirties, surely. If he had turned twenty-one not long after Della…Happened, and they had fallen out practically instantly afterwards meaning plus ten, then he ( _they_ ) would be thirty-one this year. 

Scrooge sighed, staring into the fire.

It seemed like just yesterday they had been ducklings, running excitedly through the corridors of the mansion, getting under his feet. He distinctly remembered the feeling of being pulled along, the twins eager to show off some new thing they had discovered (often items within the manor that Scrooge was well aware of.) He could still hear them begging to find out how he acquired the dinosaur tooth, the world’s largest preserved eyeball, and the world’s smallest completed novel, all the while tugging at his sleeves. They used to make him promise to tell them bedtime stories (which often got them more hyped up than sleepy), and would sometimes produce pictures of the creatures he had fought. 

Scrooge wondered where those pictures had ended up. He had never thrown them away.

The snow continued to fall outside.

Scrooge sat alone with his ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scrooge, phones exist for a reason you know...


End file.
